Throwing Rules to the Wind, page 8
He swore as he watched her taxi drive away. He huffed under his breath, “Are my words failing me now?”
As soon as the traffic lights changed, he sprinted back to the office to retrieve his car.
♦ ♦ ♦
When Zara reached home, she felt like throwing things around the apartment.
This is what I get when I listen to too many ballads. Paramore’s Hayley Williams might as well be screaming “That’s What You Get” into my ear now!
She wanted to get drunk. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to break down and cry.
Where’s Laine?
Her eyes roamed the room. The TV was off. The chairs were pushed back against the table. She made her way to the bedroom but then remembered Laine was away for the weekend yet again. Zara let out a low guttural sound.
He seriously thinks weekends will make up for all the time he’s away? Idiot! Does he really think he won’t need to meet with his family, his friends, his band? I’ve been there. Weekends are never just for me.
She walked back to the living room and sat on the couch with a thud.
He was too careless! We were too careless. I’m usually cautious, but he rubbed off on me. Of all the times to be unwary! God, what’ll Don think of me now? And Ingrid?
Though she stared at the pack of Vodka Cruisers in her hand, which she had bought from 7-Eleven, she did not grab a bottle. She picked up her phone, ignored the calls from Matt, and started typing.
Zara: Where are you?
Anne: Office. Working on a proposal for a client. What’s up?
Zara: Not much. Just checking.
Zara dialed Jazmine’s number.
“Hi, Zara!” Jazmine greeted.
“Somebody’s upbeat tonight,” Zara muttered.
“I took a day off.” Jazmine giggled and whispered as if divulging a sinful secret, “I got to sleep the whole afternoon. Ate Susan is finally living with us!”
“Can I come over?” Zara asked.
“Sure.” Jaz paused, then added, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“Jaz, it’s happening again.”
“Come over. Let’s talk about it.”
When Zara arrived at Jazmine’s home, Jazmine had just finished feeding Liam and was loading his clean bottles into a sterilizer.
When Jazmine saw Zara’s puffy eyes, she shook her head. “Come, sit. What happened? Something at work? How’s your wound?”
Zara brushed off her last question, then gave her a play-by-play of her conversation with Matt.
Jazmine shook her head. “Well, it’s a tough move for Matt too, Zara. Having to move to a new city, a new job.”
“What? Then he shouldn’t have taken the job offer, right?”
“Well, maybe he didn’t know how much you detest long-distance relationships, Zara. You’re always so pulled together, people think you can handle anything.” Jazmine paused. “And he doesn’t know what happened with Jake, does he?”
Zara sighed.
“I think he’s just trying his best to make sure your career in Biyahe isn’t jeopardized. Cut the man some slack and talk to him.”
Zara slumped back in her chair.
“Go date. Have fun while he isn’t yet jet-setting from and to Manila.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Jazmine: Hey, Matt! Don’t you know that Zara broke up with her last boyfriend because the LDR was too much?
Zara had just left Jazmine’s home ten minutes ago. After a few moments, Jazmine’s phone rang.
“What’re you talking about?” Matt demanded. “Is she with you now?”
“No.” Jazmine sighed. “She just left. FYI, her last boyfriend is currently based in Singapore. They broke up because she couldn’t take the distance anymore.”
“She never told me. Shit.”
Jazmine heard knocking on the door from Matt’s side. “I’m outside her apartment now. Nobody’s answering.”
“I think she won’t be going back there for a while.”
“Do you have any idea where she’d go?”
“In the mood she’s in, she’s probably off to go drinking.”
“Alone?”
“We didn’t exactly talk about it.” Jazmine cast a worried glance at Liam, who was sleeping in the crib. When she saw that he had not moved an inch, she continued, “But when she needs a drink, she usually goes where she can have a bit of privacy.”
“Does she get drunk?”
“No . . . but I’m not sure under the circumstances.” Jaz sighed. “Try the Exit bar. We’ve gone there a few times.”
“Okay, I’ll try that,” Matt replied. “Thanks, Jaz. I owe you one.”
“Or why don’t you just try tomorrow? I’m sure she’ll be home by then.”
“No, she could get drunk and—” He sighed.
“Good luck, Matt.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The door swung open, and Zara prayed that the one who answered her knocking was the one she needed.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter,” Dexter teased, grinning at Zara.
The Castillos’ two-storey concrete detached house was overcast with darkness, reinforced further by its ash-colored beams and ebony pillars. But Zara had seen a faint light glow from the ground floor study’s window—it was normally used only by Dexter.
Zara tried to smile as they exchanged hugs. Dexter towered over her by several inches, and he had filled out all the more over the months he had been away. Dexter had a rugged look, with a disconnected undercut and dark stubble, but his bone structure was fine, and there was a softness in his eyes.
“After insisting on always meeting outside of the house. And now you’re here.”
They had met a few times over the past few weeks while Dexter was in and out of the metro—always at a restaurant of Zara’s choice. Just the two of them. No parents, Zara was resolute.
“What prodigal daughter? Just because you solve crimes and . . . whatever . . . doesn’t make me the prodigal daughter and you the good child.” Zara rolled her eyes. “Considering where your work takes you . . .”
Dexter laughed and ruffled her hair.
He pulled her into the house, but she stopped him. “Are Mom and Dad still up?”
“No, they’ve gone to bed.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and entered while he snickered.
“Can we watch movies tonight?” she asked as they made their way to the living room.
“Sure, but no chick flicks.”
“Action movie then?”
“Fine. By the way . . .” He stopped and turned to face her. “Mom framed your first cover.”
“What?”
They walked quickly, and he pointed to the frame that hung above one of the lacquered wooden bureaus. She froze as she stared at the magazine cover featuring the Black Island of Pangasinan, which Zara had written half a year ago.
It doesn’t have to mean anything.
He squeezed her shoulder. “She’s pretty proud of you. Dad is too.”
Zara took a deep breath and pocketed her hands.
“Want me to order pizza?”
She nodded. “I want the cheesy one, with a cheese-filled crust, please.”
He frowned. “That kind of night, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Reminds me of high school and college days.”
She quietly hugged him around the waist.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The High School Maneuver
A Decade Ago
Zara walked out of the school cafeteria, glad that the sun had receded. She grunted as she adjusted her shoulder bag; her English textbook and Noli Me Tangere were weighing her down, but she smiled, because she got an A on her English paper and a B on their math exam.
She saw her friend Emily marching toward her from the end of the science building, her black school shoes click-clacking against the tiles. Emily’s eyebrows were drawn together. She stopped in front of Zara.
“Zara, you won’t believe whom I just saw.” Emily paused to catch her breath. “Neil at the gym with Pia.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Just the two of them.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Zara replied. “He’s, like, friends with everybody.”
“No.” Emily shook her head adamantly. “They’re sitting at the bleachers. Just the two of them. That’s not where friends ‘talk,’” she spat as she gestured the last word with air quotes.
Emily’s always exaggerating. Those romance novels are getting to her.
Zara took a deep breath. “I can’t stop him from talking to girls just because I’m suspicious.”
“You’re his girlfriend!” Emily half-yelled. “And you know how crazy she is about him. She’ll work herself into his arms before you know it.”
“It’s okay, you’ll see. It’ll be just fine.”
Zara readjusted her bag and headed toward the gym.
“Zara—,” Emily started, but Zara hurried away.
Please don’t let it be true. But Emily would never make up such things.
Zara’s heart was thundering as she neared the entrance of the gym. When she entered the gym, her squeaky footsteps echoed throughout the hall.
Could Emily be right? But we had so much fun during our date last week. Why would he . . .
She took a deep breath and looked around. To the far right end, she spotted Neil and Pia sitting right next to each other, just like Emily said. Pia was leaning toward him, then nodded eagerly at something he said.
They didn’t even hear me come in. Should I show myself?
Making a decision, Zara took another step forward, and finally Neil spotted her.
“Zara!” He beckoned for her to come closer.
“Oh, hey! I didn’t see you there.” Zara waved back. “I was just looking for a scrunchie I lost earlier. Were you here all this time?” The echoes in the gym amplified the tremble in her voice.
Neil left Pia and skipped down the bleachers to Zara. Zara’s breathing relaxed as she saw Pia’s face fall.
“We were just talking,” he explained.
“Oh, okay. About what?” she asked.
“About basketball and physics.”
When he stayed silent, she said, “Oh, okay. Uh, I’m going to the library. Do you want to join me?”
“Sure.” He grinned. “Let me just say goodbye, and I’ll be right behind you. You go ahead.”
“Okay.” After a hesitant glance at Pia, who changed her glower to a smile once Neil approached, Zara left.
It took Neil a good fifteen minutes before he joined Zara at the library. Zara had checked her watch every so often while waiting. She sat at the table where they had many a time pretended to read a book when they really just held each other’s hand under the table.
Sweat had formed at the top of his head from the long walk. He smiled and took his seat beside her.
God, I don’t want to talk to him about this. Nobody wants a jealous girlfriend, right? Boys want a cool, composed girl.
“What are you reading?” he asked, sliding his arm around her shoulders.
“Pride and Prejudice. It’s for a book report.”
He leaned in to read beside her. His face drew closer to hers, and she could not leaf through the book anymore. She blushed when she felt his breath against her cheek.
See, Emily was all wrong.
♦ ♦ ♦
The following week, Emily reported to Zara that Pia had kissed Neil on the lips and that it happened at one of the benches just outside the campus laboratory during the lunch hour. A few sophomores had witnessed the entire display.
Zara took the news with a mask of calm. She did not attack Neil or Pia. Zara simply strolled up to Neil during the morning break, told him it was over because of him and Pia, and walked away. He chased her, and when he was close enough, he grabbed Zara’s arm and explained that he did not do anything wrong.
“Your reason for breaking up with me is arguable,” he hissed. “She caught me by surprise. I told you, I didn’t even get the chance to stop her.”
“Then why are you always hanging out with her? Just the two of you?”
“Pia and I are just friends. I don’t know why she thought I’d be okay with her kissing me,” he insisted. “She knows you’re my girlfriend.”
Zara exhaled.
All this drama. Man, woman. And all the hazy rules in between.
“Do you promise?”
“Yes.” He frowned and brushed a finger against her cheek. “Can you stop being mad with me now?”
“All my friends tell me I should break up with you.”
“Who? Emily?” He glared. “She doesn’t like me, but that’s her problem. You gotta stand up to your friends, for us, Zara.”
♦ ♦ ♦
And I did. I did stand up for us, despite being laughed at behind my back, being mocked for being blind, being gossiped about. New stories about him with another girl, small incidents of flirtation here and there, instances of negligence toward me. But love meant loyalty, and loyalty was love. And then my chance to escape that romanticized epoch of wretchedness arrived. When the end of high school came, Neil and I parted ways. Quietly. Amicably. But all that came at a price: I began to doubt love.
CHAPTER TWELVE
No Public Declarations
“Creative Corner, everyone!” Solana announced and signaled everybody to head to the section by the bulletin board.
A few cheers sounded throughout the office. People grabbed their mobiles and headed toward the chairs surrounding the tall stool Solana had propped in the common area.
Creative Corner was a program that Don started about nine months ago. Every week, for fifteen minutes, a volunteer would share a travel experience, a book, a new editorial or photography technique, or anything under the sun that could inspire or get the team’s creative juices flowing. It had gained popularity, and the sign-ups had a long queue.
Zara’s mouth dropped when she saw Matt walking toward the stool, a white cutoff shirt peeking from underneath his tan linen blazer.
Shit.
No, I don’t miss him. It’s just been a week since we last talked. Since he told me about leaving Biyahe.
She almost ran for the restroom, in hopes that she would miss the entire show, but when she turned to go, Ingrid was right behind her and urged Zara to sit on one of the chairs. Zara gritted her teeth and took a seat far away at the back.
Matt scanned the room. His eyes landed on Zara briefly, but he looked away before Zara could avert her gaze.
Once everyone was settled, Matt turned to the crowd. “I was supposed to share something about ecotourism, which is catching on here in the Philippines and even outside the country, but I decided that today I will just inspire through a song.”
When Keith handed Matt an acoustic guitar, Zara stifled a gasp.
“Perhaps this song will remind you of places you’ve been before, a place you might’ve long forgotten. Sometimes, when you take a second look at something, you realize it bears more value to you than you first thought.”
Matt moved toward the wall where three pictures were taped. “These are things or places that have taken on more meaning for me in the past few months. This is a picture that I had taken two years ago of a bagnet vendor in Laoag. I saw her again some weeks ago. This is a heart that a newlywed couple had traced on the sand at Station 2 in Boracay. And this is a stack of Biyahe magazines in the copy room—”
Chuckles filled the room.
He pointed to the topmost magazine in the picture. “You may laugh, but this magazine edition was the first cover I ever wrote.” He grinned, still staring at the photo.
Oohs and aahs floated around the room.
“Some pictures just take on a whole new meaning. And they convey different things to different people. It can be that way with a song too.”
Matt sat on the stool and began strumming his guitar.
♬♬ You’re the waves that shatter
The cobbles on the shore
You sweep the sand, pulling them in
Making them to yield to you.♬♬
Zara gulped, her neck and cheeks starting to burn.
Why is it starting to sound like a love song? I hope nobody sees me flushing!
She looked around. She sucked in a breath when she saw the women gaping at Matt, their lips parted and a dopey expression across their faces.
Why is that girl from accounting being all dreamy looking? God, I can’t look at Ingrid. Don’t—she’s blushing! I can’t believe she’s been into him all this time. Has Don told her about me and Matt?
Matt only stared down at the strings on his guitar as he strummed.
♬♬ You’re the ocean, heady and luscious to me
Show your depths to me
Your swells and dips I’ll revere
I want to know you, my dear.♬♬
When Matt finished the second chorus, Oliver quipped, loud enough for everybody to hear, “That’s not about a place. That’s about a girl!”
The other photographers who stood beside Oliver snickered and elbowed him in the ribs. Without missing a beat, Matt flipped off Oliver, then continued his song. Everyone laughed.
Zara stared down at the cup of water in her hand. Now she wished she had added some vodka just so she could bear listening to the rest of the song. She wiped the back of her hand against her sweating forehead.
Don glanced at Zara and chuckled under his breath. He could not believe it when Matt tendered his resignation. Don did not want to let him go, but Matt was adamant that Zara would not be the one to sacrifice anything. He had noticed Matt’s inclination toward Zara’s articles in the past months, but he had seen Zara mature in her craft as well.
When Matt finished the song, the crowd applauded. Zara swore she saw at least a couple of girls swoon again.
